Deliciously Obedient by Julia Kent Page A

down there the only
other trash can gets to overflowing,” she said, pointing to a blue
plastic barrel with a black plastic bag poking out around the top.
    “ Sure.”
He picked it up easily in one hand and began the journey, feeling her
eyes on him as he walked down the path to the main beach. What was it
about mothers? Fathers were easy. If they didn’t like you, they
said so. To your face.
    Moms
were more insidious. Like his own had been.
    A
few kids on bikes screeched to a halt as the dirt turned to sand,
dumping their bikes and running toward the water, careful not to
touch it. This was a beach in name only, as far as Jeremy was
concerned. The soft pink sands of Bermuda or the white sands in
Florida were what he would call a beach.
    This?
This was a tract of land that abutted the ocean. Land covered with
broken rock and cracked clam shells. It was ugly and bereft of
beauty, though you could stare out at the water and the horizon to
get a meditative fix. Beach? Pfft.
    He
dropped the barrel where Sandy had asked and took careful steps on
the rocks, ankles strong in his boots. Out in the distance he saw
them, sitting on a nature-made rock piles, Pete’s arm around Lydia
in a sideways hug.
    Hmmm.
Maybe he shouldn’t interrupt. That looked like a Norman Rockwell
moment, and the last thing the new guy wants to do is ruin one of
those. Dads eat that shit up once their kids are adults. Especially
the only girl in the family. If Pete wanted to grasp at fading
moments of Daddy’s Little Girl, putting a dent in that special
moment would be the kiss of death.
    He
already had four of her brothers watching him carefully. Pete was an
important counterbalance, and Sandy was neutral. The woman was
inscrutable.
    What
to do with himself now?
    Bzzzz. “Holy fucking shit!” he muttered, jumping high as his cock
began to hum.
    Not
cock. Phone. Okay, his phone buzzed in his front pocket. He hadn’t
had a text in days, the feeling foreign. Sliding it open, he saw a
text from Mike.
    I’m
alive , it read.
    Even
Jesus only took three days to reappear, Mike , Jeremy wrote back,
pissed. Where you been?
    Closer
than you think.
    What
does that mean?
    You’ll
see me soon.
    You
OK?
    Fine.
How’s Lydia?
    Sharp
inhale. Running frantic fingers through his overgrown hair, Jeremy
paused and waited before even thinking about putting his finger on
that screen. How’s Lydia? Well fucked. How’s Lydia? Still not
over you. How’s Lydia? About three days away from having me confess
my love.
    How
do you think she is? was all he could type back.
    You
taking care of her?
    Only
one safe way to answer that: Yes.
    One
minute. Two. Three. He stared at his phone, and just as he was about
to crack and write the next text, a single word appeared on his
screen:
    Good.

    “ You
seen Jeremy?” Lydia walked into the store and asked her mother,
whose ass was poking up in the air as she bent down to clean the
lowest shelf of some antique pie holder that currently housed various
novelty candies.
    “ Nope,”
said her mom’s ass. “Not since he went down to the beach to find
you.”
    Sandy’s
clipped tone bothered Lydia. A lot. Krysta walked in, looking
completely wiped. “What’s up with you?”
    “ Caleb.
He won’t stop riding me.”
    Smirk.
    “ The
man’s appetite is voracious.”
    That
got Sandy to stand up quickly and pay attention.
    “ And
I keep asking him to touch my melons, and when he does he says
they’re not good enough.”
    “ He
what?” Sandy gasped.
    Krysta
stopped, took a deep breath, and let it out in a frustrated puff.
“I’ve spent the better part of three days in that kitchen doing
whatever he tells me, and all he ever has me do is work. Work, work,
work. He is a machine.”
    “ A
machine,” Lydia repeated, crossing her arms over her chest.
    “ He
won’t let up.”
    “ He
won’t,” Sandy added with sympathy.
    “ I
give him what he wants and twenty minutes later he wants more!”
    “ More,”
Sandy and Lydia said in